placing a board across the tops of two chairs, and covering it with
cloth, so as to represent a table. The tube comes up through this board
into the body of some image placed upon the table, as a doll, a figure
of a dog or cat, or a grotesque effigy made by means of a mask. In this
case a person is concealed under the table to whisper into the tube, in
answer to such questions as the spectators address to the figure. Of
course, all these arrangements are made before the spectators are
admitted to the room.
[Illustration]
STORY OF THE SEA.
Captain Albert had recently returned from a long and perilous whaling
voyage, and was seated beside a bright blazing fire at his own hearth.
His wife sat opposite, with her youngest child in her lap, while the two
sons, Edward and William, stood on each side looking earnestly in his
face, that they might be quite sure their father had indeed returned,
and that they were not still deceived by one of those pleasant dreams
with which they had been so often visited during his absence.
"Oh, father," said Edward, "the next time you go, take me with you, do!"
"Tell us a story of the sea, will you not, father?" said William, at the
same time.
"Very well, my son, I will try," replied their father; "and that will,
perhaps, change Edward's mind about going with me the next time.
"One day, in the great Southern ocean, we had followed a fine whale
farther south than we had ever before been. The whale was enormously
large, and I saw in a moment that if we could take it there would be
oil enough to fill our casks, and enable us to return home. Its motions
were very rapid, and we followed it as swiftly as we could, but, after
all, it escaped. I believe the creature swam under water till it was
out of the reach of my glass. While I was looking out to try to get a
sight of it again, I espied something which appeared to be an island,
to the south, but while I was looking at it I was sure it moved. It did
move, and we soon came near enough to see what it was distinctly. It
proved to be an iceberg, shooting up to a great height, like one of the
sharp-pointed Alps, and spreading out to a wide extent, on all sides.
At the same time, the whole ocean, as far south as the eye could reach,
was covered with floating ice.
[Illustration]
"The situation was full of danger, but the wind was in our favour, and I
prepared to press all sail, in hopes of escaping, when suddenly a shower
of hail and sleet rushed upon us with such fury that some of the men
were beaten down to the deck, and all found it difficult to stand under
it. The sails, shrouds, and sheets, were all cased in ice, stiffened,
and almost as immoveable as if they had been made of iron.
"I now began to blame myself severely for suffering the whale to tempt
me so far into those regions of ice and storms. I looked with bitter
regret toward those faithful sailors who had trusted their lives to my
care, and who were now exposed to unnecessary hardships and dangers by
my boyish rashness. The noble fellows never uttered a word of complaint,
but _their_ generous fortitude did not help to reconcile me to myself.
Full of anxiety, I took my glass to look out again for the iceberg.
While I was looking towards it, I spied something among the cakes of
ice, which appeared like some small craft; but I could not believe a
vessel of that size could have reached a latitude so far south. A
vessel, it certainly was--a small schooner, sailing among the cakes of
ice, as if it knew how to pick its way alone, for I could not see a
person moving on her deck. We steered, as well as we could, directly
towards her. My ship was new and strong, and well prepared, so that I
did not much fear the loose cakes of ice. When we were near enough, I
hailed the little craft, and thought I heard a distant shout in reply.
As we came nearer, I saw a young man alone, and sitting upon the helm,
apparently managing it with the motions of his body, so as to steer his
little vessel safely through.
* * * * *
"We all stood looking for a moment at the brave young man, with wonder
and admiration; but as soon as I ordered out a boat, the sailors rushed
to the side and began to work with a will, although everything they
touched was cased in ice, and terrible to handle. Down went the boat,
and was manned in an instant. It was not long before the young man was
on board our ship, but he would not leave the schooner until he had
seen a rope rigged to tow her after us. The poor fellow was almost dead
with cold and hunger; he had not tasted any food for more than
twenty-four hours, as he told us afterwards. He could hardly speak a
word, and as soon as he felt the warmth of the stove, he fainted
entirely away. We put him into a hammock, and did all we could for him,
and soon had the pleasure of seeing him revive. After he had taken some
warm tea, he fell asleep, and slept till I began to fear he would never
awake again; but Providence had provided him the refreshment he needed,
and when he awoke, the next day, he was well and lively. I inquired how
he came into so strange a situation, when he told me that four young
men, without much consideration, had purchased the vessel, and fitted
her up for a voyage of discovery into those far-off seas. They had
encountered a furious storm, which drove them among the ice, near the
place where they were found. They had suffered very much with cold and
want of sleep, while the vessel was every moment in danger of being
crushed to pieces.
"In this distress his companions began to drink spirits to warm them.
They offered him some, and urged him to drink, but he replied it would
make him worse, and reminded them of a ship which was cast away one very
severe winter, among the rocks near his own native town, when all the
sailors who drank rum were frozen, while those who did not drink,
escaped. His companions, however, would not listen to his advice, but
continued to drink, and were soon unable to move, and were all frozen to
death, and were still on the deck, covered with ice and sleet. Robert
(this was the young man's name,) was saved by not drinking any of the
rum, but by using it outwardly, pouring it into his boots, and a part
into his bosom."
"But how did you escape that terrible iceberg, and get out of that
dreadful sea?" said Edward: "were any of your men frozen?"
"No," replied Captain Albert; "we suffered very severely, but we did not
use any 'fire-water,' and every sailor who went out in the ship,
returned in good health; still, all that we were able to do would have
been no more than the fluttering of a leaf in a whirlwind, without the
help of Him, who, you will remember, was once in 'a little ship when a
great storm arose,' and who said, 'Peace be still, and there was a great
calm.'"
[Illustration]
THE OLD SLATE.
"I have a great mind to break this stupid old slate," said little Charlie
Fidget, one morning, as he sat over his first sum in subtraction.
"Why, what has the poor slate done?" asked the pleasant voice of his
sister Helen, behind him.
"Nothing; just what I complain of; it won't do this plaguy sum for me;
and here it is almost school-time!"
"What a wicked slate, Charles!"
"So it is. I mean to fling it out of the window and break it to pieces
on the stones."
"Will that do your sum, Charlie?"
"No; but if there were no slates in the world, I should have no
good-for-nothing sums to do."
"Oh, ho! that does not follow, by any means. Did slates make the science
of arithmetic? Would people never have to count or calculate, if there
were no slates? You forget pens, lead pencils and paper: you forget all
about oral arithmetic, Charlie."
"Well, I don't love to cipher, that's all I know."
"And so, you hasty boy, you get angry with the poor harmless slate, that
is so convenient when you make mistakes and want to rub them out again.
Now that is the way with a great many thoughtless, quick-tempered
people. They try to find fault with somebody or something else, and get
into a passion, and perhaps do mischief, when if they would but reflect
a little, it is their own dear selves who ought to bear the blame. Now,
Charlie, let me see what I can do for you."
So Helen sat down in her mother's great easy-chair; she tried to look
grave and dignified, like an old lady, though she was but eighteen.
Charlie came rather unwillingly, laid the slate in her lap, and began
to play with the trimming on her apron. "Why, what is all this?" said
she; "soldiers, and cats, and dogs, and houses with windows of all
shapes and sizes!"
Charlie looked foolish. "Oh, the sum is on the other side," said he,
turning it over.
[Illustration]
"Ah, silly boy," said Helen; "here you have been sitting half an hour
drawing pictures, instead of trying to do your sum. And now, which do
you think ought to be broken, you or the slate?" and she held it up
high, as if she meant to strike at him with it.
Charlie looked up, with his hands at his ears, making believe he was
frightened, but laughing all the while, for he knew she was only playing
with him. Presently, however, she put on a serious face, and said, "Now,
my little man, you must go to work in good earnest to make up for lost
time."
"Oh, Helen, it wants only twenty minutes to nine; I can't possibly do
this sum and get to school by nine. I shall be late. What shall I do?
Miss Fletcher will certainly punish me if it is not done. Can't you,
just this once, Helen?"
"No," said Helen.
"Oh, do, there's a dear, good sister; just this once."
"No, Charlie; there would be no kindness in that. You would never learn
arithmetic in that way."
"Just once," still pleaded Charlie.
"No," answered Helen, in a kind, but resolute tone: "if I do it once,
you will find it harder to be refused to-morrow; you will depend upon
me, and sit playing and drawing pictures, instead of ciphering. I will
keep you close at it till you perform your task."
So she passed her hand gently round him, and though Charlie pouted at
first, and could hardly see through his tears, she questioned him about
his rule, and then began to show him the proper way to do his sum, yet
letting him work it out himself, in such a pleasant manner, that he was
soon ashamed of being sullen. First she held the pencil herself, and put
down the figures as he told her to do; and then she made him copy the
whole, nicely, on another part of the slate, and rub out her figures.
After all this was finished patiently and diligently, Charlie was
surprised to find he should still be in good time for school.
"Now, to-morrow, Charlie," said Helen, "don't waste a moment, but go to
your lesson at once, whatever it is, and you will find it a great
saving, not only of time, but of temper. You won't get into a passion
with this clever old slate of mine. It went to school with me when I was
a little girl, and I should have been sorry if you had broken it for
not doing your work. Generally, Charlie, when you see a person fidgety
and angry, and complaining of things and people, you may be sure he has
either done something he ought not to do, or left undone something he
ought to do."
Away ran Charlie to school, thinking to himself, "Well, I suppose I was
wrong both ways. I ought not to have been drawing soldiers, and I ought
to have been ciphering."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHILDREN.
The early lark, that spreads its wings
And mounts the summer air,
Obeys its Maker while it sings
In morning carols there.
The skilful bee from flower to flower
Pursues its nectar'd store,
Nor has it instinct, skill or power
To please its Maker more.
But children, born with nobler powers,
In paths of vice may stray,
Or rise to virtue's fragrant bower
In realms of endless day.
Then let me shun those wicked ways
Which lead to sin and shame,
So shall my heart be taught to praise
My Lord and Saviour's name.
[Illustration]
LIZZY; A FAIRY TALE.
Lizzy was walking in a wood one day, and as she stooped under a tree to
gather some flowers that grew at its foot, she heard a loud tapping high
up in the tree; she looked up, and there she saw, clinging to a dead
bough that industrious and happy bird, the woodpecker. "Are you going
to dig out a chamber for yourself there?" asked Lizzy. "That bough is
too small, I should think."
[Illustration]
"Oh! I am not doing carpentry work now," said the bird; "there are some
nice little insects under this bark,--sweet things!--which I love as
well as you love the lambs."
"And yet you intend to make a meal upon them--barbarous bird!"
"Yes, as good a meal as you make upon the lamb,--barbarous child! But
let us forgive each other; we must eat to live. You would love to eat
me if I were nicely cooked, and I should relish you exceedingly if I
could only change you into a beetle-bug, or a grub of some sort."
"Do not talk so, Mr. Carpenter: I would rather go without my dinner than
to have you killed and cooked for me."
"Ah! do you love me so well? Then I will confide in you, and tell you a
secret. My chamber is in the trunk of this tree, and my six eggs lie on
the floor of it. Jump up here, and I will show it to you."
"I could not jump twenty feet into the air," said Lizzy.
"Why! are you not twenty times longer than I am?"
"Oh, more; and more than forty times heavier?"
"Well, well, I will go down and help you up."
"I should like to know how you expect to help me," said Lizzy.
"We shall see;" and the woodpecker flew down;--but where is he? Lizzy
looked about, and she could not see him anywhere.
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed a voice close by her ear; and Lizzy turned, and
saw a pretty little fairy figure standing close beside her. "I was only
acting the woodpecker for my amusement. We fairies are very fond of
masquerading."
"Then I cannot see the woodpecker's nest," said Lizzy. "It is too bad
to disappoint me so, when I did so want to see his pretty eggs."
"Oh, if you wish to see some pretty eggs. I can show you some as
pretty as the woodpecker's. I have hundreds of them stowed away in a
woodpecker's hole, up in this very tree. I had come here this morning to
deposit some, and this is what made me think of acting the woodpecker
just now."
"Where did you get so many eggs? Do you rob birds' nests?"
"Oh, no, indeed! they are not birds' eggs; they come down in the rain,
and we use the large flower-cups to catch them in."
"And what will hatch from them?"
"Ah, that is more than I can tell as yet. I will give you some of them,
and they will hatch just such kind of creatures as you tell them to."
"That is a very likely story,--but give me some, do; and I will tell
them to hatch most beautiful birds and butterflies."
"Stay; let me explain a little, before you count your unhatched birds
and butterflies. I will tell you how to hatch them. Put them in your
bosom, and they will be hatched by its warmth; but what is hatched from
them must depend entirely upon what kind of feeling shall warm your
bosom, and upon what deeds you do. If you have a wicked feeling, an ugly
creature will begin to form within one of the eggs; and if you let that
feeling cause you to do anything wrong, then the egg will hatch. Are
you willing to take the risk of having spiders and scorpions in your
bosom, for the sake of the hope that they may be pretty birds and
butterflies?"
[Illustration]
"Oh, yes!" said Lizzy; "I do not think I ever have such bad feelings as
spiders and scorpions are made of."
"Come, then," cried the fairy; and she led Lizzy round to the other side
of the tree, where she saw, high up in the trunk, a woodpecker's hole.
"Run up," cried the fairy.
"How can I? There is nothing but an ivy-vine to cling to."
"You mistake," said the fairy; and she touched the ivy-vine with her
wand, and there was a nice rope-ladder leading up to the woodpecker's
hole. It was almost full of small, pearly white eggs.--"Take out three
or four," said the fairy, "and put them in your bosom, and before you
reach home, they will very likely all be hatched."
"Oh, what pretty little things!" cried Lizzy, as she took them out;
"they shall certainly hatch something pretty."
She was going to put them all in her bosom at once; but the fairy told
her she had better put only one in at a time, and the others in one of
the pockets of her apron; for it would be rather worse if there should
be several spiders running about in her bosom, than only one.
"Oh, there will not be any," said Lizzy; "there will be a pretty bird
hopping about there--but I will do as you advise." She ran down the
ladder, and the fairy tripped along after her, and when Lizzy turned to
bid her good morning, she saw the ivy-vine clasping the tree, and the
woodpecker tapping away at the bark.
Lizzy ran along through the wood, hoping that something would happen
to arouse in her breast a good affection of some sort,--for there was
nothing there now but a mingled feeling of pleasure and dread,--for a
sweet-brier bush, for what purpose is not known, caught hold of her
dress, and thus occasioned a frightful rent; and sweet-brier bushes,
if they do bear sweet roses, do also love to play off their jokes upon
people, in quite as unbenevolent a way as the blackberry and thorn.
But Lizzy thought it no joke at all. What barbarous cruelty to tear
her dress so, and then to hold upon it so relentlessly! and whilst
she was trying to force the thorns to let go their hold, she became so
angry that she cried out, "Oh! I wish there was not a sweet-brier bush
in the world, I do! and I wish this was dead and burnt up." But before
she had released herself from the bush, she felt something moving in
her bosom. Putting her hand in, she pulled out an empty egg-shell,
while the wasp, which had just been hatched, flew around her face. She
brushed it away with her handkerchief. She looked at the sweet-brier
roses,--those little rosy cups all arranged so garland-like on the
bending boughs,--and said, "I wonder it was not a scorpion. Poor
little roses! I do not wish you to wither; I want you to flourish, and
breathe out your sweet breath;" and she bent her head over them, and
while they breathed forth their sweet breath, they looked so much like
little infants, that the tears came into Lizzy's eyes, while she said,
"May the Lord that made you, forgive me!"--When she lifted up her
head, she saw a wasp fall to the ground, and then a pretty bird came,
and picked it up and swallowed it. Lizzy then took another egg from
her pocket, placed it in her bosom, and walked on, taking care to keep
at a safe distance from sweet-briers and brambles.
[Illustration]
She had not gone far when she saw a little sparrow fly from a low shrub,
making a sound as if he had a nest there. When he had gone so far away
that she thought he would not see her, she peeped in amongst the
leaves, and there she espied the little home, with its three inmates;
not three little birds as yet--but, what she knew were quite as dear to
the parents, two speckled eggs. "Ah!" thought Lizzy, "how I should like
to see if I could not hatch a sparrow's egg. I should be sure that a
wasp would not come out of a sparrow's egg." And she put her hand very
slily into the nest, and stole away one of the sparrow's speckled
treasures, and laid it in her bosom by the side of the fairy egg. As she
left the bush, she turned to see if the sparrow went to look at it; and
while she stood watching him, she felt a strange nestling and fumbling
in her bosom, that she thought both eggs must have hatched. Looking in,
she saw a small snake writhing about most energetically. "I will put the
sparrow's egg back," thought she, for she was struck with horror.
[Illustration]
Throwing the snake upon the ground, in an agony of disgust, she felt
for the sparrow's egg; but, alas! the empty shell was alone there,--the
snake had sucked the egg. "How I wish I had not stolen away the
sparrow's egg! The snake has eaten what would have been a pretty bird. I
would give the sparrow one of my fairy eggs, if I thought he would like
it, but perhaps he would not. Vile snake!" she cried, stepping back as
she saw the snake writhing on the ground close by her feet. Her words
seemed to give him a death-stroke; he lay still, as though lifeless; she
touched him with her foot, but he did not move. There was a little
frog-pond near by, and to make sure that he should not come to life
again, Lizzy took the snake on a stick, and threw it into the pond and
then put another egg into her bosom. As she stood by the pond, lashing
the water with the stick, she began to fear she was not quite so
delightful a child as she had imagined herself to be, and to wonder
what she should do to make the egg hatch a pretty creature. "Let me
think," said she, "what have I to do before dinner? I have some sewing
to do, and two lessons to study. Now, if I go directly home, and do
these things well, instead of staying here to play, perhaps I shall
find, after I have finished my tasks, some bright bird, or shining
insect, in my bosom. To be sure, that ought not to be my only reason for
doing well, and it is not my only reason." This was quite true; for
Lizzy began to feel so penitent for the unpleasant things she had done,
that she felt a desire to make amends of some sort. "I believe I will,"
said she, "go directly home, and see how much I can do before dinner.
Oh! see the tadpoles! how they run and wag their tails, queer creatures!
but I must not stay." A frog then leaped into the water, from amongst
the grass at the other side of the pond. "Ah! father long-legs! what a
water-nymph you are! I must just go round and see if there are not some
more frogs there; I do love so to see them leap into the water with such
a plash." And she walked round the water, frightening the frogs from the
grass; and when they had all leaped into the water, she thought she must
sit down quite still for a few moments, just to see if one would not
jump out again. She waited a few moments,--and then a few more,--and
then a few more. "Oh, dear!" she cried, "I will wait till one--just
one--comes, if I wait till night, I am determined." But it seemed as if
the frogs were determined to be revenged upon Lizzy for frightening them
in, for not one lifted his head above the water, for more than a quarter
of an hour; and Lizzy began to feel a little frightened, and to wish she
had made no promise. At length one, more courageous or less obstinate
than the rest, leaped upon the bank. "Oh; and there is another!" Now
Lizzy must just go and drive them in again, because it is still better
to see them leap in: for you then have the pleasure of seeing them swim.
As she stood watching them swim, she thought the egg in her bosom felt
cold; this reminded her of her good resolution, and she walked straight
homewards.
It was dinner time when she reached home.--Ah! where were the lessons
and the sewing? and why had not the egg hatched? It was a great while
since she put it into her bosom. She did not believe it was going to
hatch at all, for it still felt cold, and she thought she would break
the shell, and see if there was anything in it. Yes, there was
something, and something very pretty, too. A small, shining, green bee;
but it was dead. Oh! those amusing frogs!
"Well, this one," said Lizzy, as she put the last egg into her bosom,
"shall hatch a beautiful bee; for, as soon as dinner is over, I will sit
down and be as industrious as a bee on a summer's morning."
"Lizzy," said her mother, while they were sitting at table, "what was
that you put into your bosom, just now?"
"What, mother? when?" asked Lizzy; for she did not feel as if the story
she had to tell about the eggs would be one much to her credit, and she
was too proud to be willing to tell it.
"As you were sitting down, I observed you put something into your bosom;
what was it?"
"Oh, I--just happened to put my hand into my bosom."
"Lizzy, you had something in your hand; I saw it."
"Why, mother, you are mistaken. I--I--"
"Tell me what it was, my child."
"Why, mother, it was only my--my thimble."
As the falsehood came out of Lizzy's mouth, a black bat crept out of her
bosom, and, spreading out his filmy wings, fluttered about her
head.--Every one started up from the table; Lizzy screamed, and tried to
brush the impish-looking creature away, but he persisted in fluttering
around her head. She ran from the room; but before she could shut the
door behind her, the bat was out also, and sailed round and round her
head. Her mother followed her out, and tried to drive the bat away,
while she reproved Lizzy for putting such ugly things in her bosom, and
expressed very great grief that her daughter should have told a
falsehood; and she told her that the falsehood would haunt and trouble
her mind till she confessed the truth, and begged forgiveness, just as
the black bat now troubled her by flying around her head.
"I will confess all," said Lizzy; and she burst into tears, and throwing
herself into her mother's arms, told her morning's adventures, without
sparing herself at all.
The bat dropped down dead upon the floor.